


Surely One Of Us Should Know

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Bloodplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-15
Updated: 2005-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:59:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7095349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel tries to deal with the aftermath of a harsh decision regarding Wes. It doesn't go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surely One Of Us Should Know

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

It seems to happen before I even tried to understand any of it. Like most things, I guess.

Wesley lets go of my cock. Steps back. It’s so easy to close my eyes and pretend he has never been so close, his scent doesn’t hang about me, the taste of his blood isn’t still something I can’t wish to be punished for.  
How inarticulate of me. Goes with the mask, sure, why not?

“So how can you tell I have kept my soul? Can you sense it? Feel it? Smell it, perhaps?”

“No.”

“That’s fine, then. Because my senses tell me nothing about your soul. I just seem to know it is there. Is it like that for you?”

“I guess.”

I keep trying to make eye contact with Wesley. But Wesley’s eyes are fixed on the floor, so all I have is this image of Wesley’s naked body. So close…

“Wes, please…”

“I’m sorry. I stopped rather abruptly, didn’t I?”

He kneels down by my side again. His mouth now starts to play with my nipples. Tongue and lips and teeth all at once. Until I am moaning softly again. Wesley traces patterns with his tongue across my chest, down my belly, teasingly lower and lower. He traces them again with kisses so that he can feel me writhing beneath him. He takes hold of my cock again and starts to lick it, bringing me ever closer to orgasm with little bites. He half swallows it and sucks it and… stops.

“We should call the others, you know? Tell them you’re back. Tell them about Connor.”

My self-control doesn’t take over right away. Because nothing else makes sense now. Because I want to play with my toy – that's what centuries bring you. Not inner-peace, sure as hell no redemption. Just shit and self-indulgency. So I let myself go.

“Yes. Connor… I wonder if…”

Wesley has gone back to his ministrations. My momentary silence turns back into moaning.

“If what?”

“If they’ll be safe with Connor… Wes, please don’t stop…”

But he does.

“Maybe I should. Maybe this is just a vampire thing. Something I would be ashamed of doing.”

“It’s not! …”

He gets dressed. Backs into a corner of the room. Asks me for more blood. I feel tempted to offer mine but some sort of rational thought collides with that and I go fetch him more pig’s blood. He’s still so hungry…

“I must stay here, is that it?”

“Just for a couple of days… Until we can figure out how to tell the others.”

“And Connor?”

“We’ll call them.”

His countenance is human now. His eyes so hurt. So clear… Guilt comes in waves – all the more so because he no longer blames me. Well, not verbally…

Growling, yelping, crying, so low… I don’t think he’s aware of any of it. I can barely hear him. Can’t stand it... Must stop him, stake him, shut him up, kiss him. Hell was never this cold. Everything around him is grey and sticks like glue and I lick a path to where it flows from his open mouth. His fangs come out to punish my murdering ones. Bone against bone. We call each others' names in silence deep in our throats. I can only see shades of liquid grey flowing into me. Bad poetry when days are young but it’s already too late to change the way we’re bound to go.

He stops. Flees out the door. I break.


End file.
